


Get Mad

by Nefhiriel



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Cats, Community: avengersgen, Gen, Humor, Maria and Coulson are Made Of Win, Maria has a sense of humor, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 13:00:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nefhiriel/pseuds/Nefhiriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maria Hill has a sense of humor, and she knows how to use it.</p><p>Written for a prompt on avengersgen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Mad

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tielan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/gifts).



> Written for this prompt on [avengersgen](http://avengersgen.livejournal.com/):
> 
>  
> 
> _Maria Hill as the SHIELD liaison after the movie; dealing with them individually or collectively, and their thoughts on her as much as her thoughts on them._
> 
>  
> 
> _Mostly, it would be a nice change to read something that doesn't code her as "bitch" for being wary of a superhero team, just because they're the heroes of_
> 
>  
> 
> Beta'ed by the ever-awesome Imbecamiel.

Maria narrowed her eyes, leaning across the table towards Coulson. “Come on, Phil. Don’t make me do all the heavy lifting. That’s really the best  _mad_  you can do?”  
  
Coulson raised an eyebrow. Abruptly, he slammed a hand down on the desk, fingers splayed—not hard enough to appear in any way tantrum-like, but definitely firmly enough to be far from casual. She admired the way his poker face never seemed to crack, no matter what. Not when he frowned, or glared, or smiled.   
  
Sometimes, she wondered if the serene expression layered over all other expressions really was his poker face, or if it was just  _Coulson_.   
  
“Better?”   
  
“Well, you  _could_  look angrier.”  
  
“Not my style,” he demurred.  
  
“Fair enough,” she agreed, realizing he was right. Coulson was all about understatement. Outright hostility would look out of character. She arranged her own features into a look of challenge: brows drown down into a sharp “V,” lips a thin line. “I can do angry.”  
  
On the other side of the window, arranged around a conference table, the Avengers were unabashedly watching them. Given the broad range of abilities their audience possessed, they were forced to keep their conversation hushed.  
  
“Now where were we?”   
  
“Your friend, Lea,” Coulson supplied. “Emergency c-section, you said. How is she now?”  
  
“Tired, but home from the hospital. The baby—Benjamin—is adorable. I mean, really adorable. I’m not one to coo over a baby, but he’s absolutely perfect.”  
  
An ever-so-slight smile twitched at one corner of Coulson’s mouth. “It’s perfectly alright to be biased, Agent Hill.”  
  
“Oh, I can own up to bias. Like when it comes to puppies.  _There_  I’m biased.”  
  
“Did you ever get around to adopting that dog? Husky mix, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah. He was a real sweetheart. But I realized it wasn’t fair—not with the hours I work. He’d need more exercise than that.” She repressed a wistful sigh.   
  
“Too bad,” Coulson replied, staring evenly at her. “Dogs are great.”

She stared back, just as evenly. “I guess I’ll have to settle for my windowsill herb garden and a cat who’s scheduled a play date with her owner for four o’clock every Saturday morning. On the dot. And by ‘owner’ I mean ‘human cat food can-opener.’”  
  
Only Coulson’s eyes smiled. Maria smiled back with her eyes, face otherwise made of stone. Coulson had told her that he’d owned cats before. He knew about coming home to find half-eaten moths twitching on the rug, or to cat litter sprinkled almost artistically across the furniture and up the stairs. The subject of rodents was better left alone.   
  
“I really should’ve given that cat back to the shelter after week one,” she lamented, as was universally the prerogative of pet owners everywhere, who did things like put up with emergency weekend trips to the vet after their beloved  _idiot_  of a feline decided to gnaw on a poinsettia.   
  
“Do I want to know about week one?”  
  
“No. You really don’t.”   
  
The conversation was getting to be a bit of a game to see who could look more prickly and ready to snarl, while coming up with the most cordial topics to discuss. She could see Coulson rising to the occasion with a secretive, teasing edge of friendly competitiveness. It reminded her of sparring, or chess.  
  
She crossed her arms and nodded at him with a sharp jerk of her chin, posture hostile and aloof. “But what about you? How’s the wound healing?”  
  
“Twinges sometimes.”  
  
“During bad weather?” It was hard to keep her amused tone from rising in pitch. “Not that excuse. You’re too young for  _that_  excuse, surely.”  
  
“Sparring’s what does it, actually,” Coulson said mildly. “It’s still healing. I’m assured it’ll leave a decent scar, though.”  
  
“Always good for a spinning a tall tale or two.”  
  
“Yeah. Kids love hearing about the time you survived being stabbed with a glowing scepter, wielded by a demigod from another planet.”  
  
“I bet.”

They paused for a stare-down that ended with Maria sighing heavily in defeat. She needed coffee. Maybe a latte. “So are we through, here?”  
  
“I believe so.”  
  
“Mind,” she added, with a stern look that wasn’t an act, “this wasn’t all a ruse for their benefit.” She indicated the waiting Avengers with a nod. “Commander Fury has been considering a similar exercise for some time, but it  _did_  take some convincing to persuade him that we’d get better results and cooperation by allowing the Avengers to plan it themselves instead of arranging it on our end. He was understandably concerned at the level of enthusiasm displayed by certain parties.”  
  
“That’s because this is a terrible idea,” Coulson replied cheerfully.  
  
“Letting Stark head training exercises on the Hellicarrier?” she scoffed.   
  
“Terrible doesn’t begin to cover it.”  
  
“Which is why your agreement to allow things to proceed is dependent upon Captain Rogers and Agent Romanov’s dual oversight of the project, and a detailed plan submitted for Fury’s final approval before they proceed.”  
  
“It’s been a pleasure negotiating with you, Agent Coulson.”  
  
“Likewise, Agent Hill.”  
  
She watched with a forbidding, unhappy expression as Coulson went into the other room to relay the news.   
  
Stark, predictably, took the modifications to his proposal with all the grace of spoiled toddler, though mollified in the end by the thought that Coulson had gone to bat for them and won as much of a concession as he had. He wouldn’t push things now and risk losing all his fun-time privileges. 

Steve looked weary already. Natasha wasn’t actually rolling her eyes at Stark, but the sentiment  _“Oh, just grow up,”_ was there nonetheless.

Thor and Clint were the most eager-looking. Bruce was watching his teammates like he was perpetually amused to find himself a part of said team.  
  
In parting, Tony didn’t actually resort to sticking out his tongue out at Maria, but his look said it all. The rest of the Avengers trickled out after him.

Maria exchanged a last knowing glance with Coulson before turning away, headed off to the rest of her day, which might (but probably wouldn’t) involve leaving early and getting a latte, and also might (with a ninety-nine-point-nine percent probability) involve reams of mind-numbing paperwork.   
  
And maybe, just maybe, if she worked for SHIELD until she was old and gray she’d begin to be able to put a finger on why she put up with these people, and even fought their battles for them (and even allowed herself to look like the bad guy in the name of the greater good).   
  
She decided the latte deserved at least a fifty-fifty chance of making it into her day, after all. She’d earned it.


End file.
